Tag Archives: Mom

is essential.  I read my news online, changing sources to find different angles on stories and hopefully find a shred of truth.  In the old days we had our local paper and if we were lucky, Walter Cronkite at six.

When one writes more than one knows from reading or other inspiration, that spells trouble.  When one writes stories without inspiration, that does not make a story.

When it comes to food, tasting is everything.  One “chef-testant” on Top Chef recently said that she didn’t need to drive to nearby NYC to taste real ethnic food, she could read her books.  Wrong.

Town library, every Saturday.  Books, knowledge, plays, all dusty and unused.  No Shakespeare there, just dusty books donors gave many years ago.  We made the best of it.  I knew at age eight that library was useless except for reference books and one cook book.

It’s a pity to know that a college town’s only public library is toast at the tender age of eight.  So my life took a different direction….

Now that’s the beginning of a story of which the author knows not the ending but at least the beginning and the material it may contain.

Scrabble was a hit, especially with the newly six year-old, who chose his own letters to spell the initials of his school.  Wow.  What a Thanksgiving!

ps Thanksgiving was always my mother’s holiday.  It was never mine.  I thought of her a lot this weekend and told funny stories about our childhood as they pertained to whatever conversation was at hand.  Scrabble was her game.  Proper names and acronyms were not allowed. To see nephew Joseph play was a tribute to my mother.  If she was alive ten years from now he may have won.

I just received a package from my Aunt with notes and names of all the people who contacted her about the passing of her sister, my mother, Barbara.

As we pack up and head off to grandmother’s house (Jim’s grandmother, who kindly agreed seven years ago to be mine as well) there is much to be thankful for.

From my piano teacher, school music teacher to the farm stand to the neighbors who had the first color TV and invited my sister and I over to see The Wizard of Oz, everyone wrote a note or sent a contribution to their favorite local cancer center.

It was written that the highest form of praise for a Judaic woman is to be called a woman of valor, and one writer told us that our mother was one.  Thank you all.

What a Thanksgiving this will be.  Dee

Jim brought a lovely bouquet of flowers home this evening, with sunflowers, roses and others that is spectacular.

In response, for my birthday I made him a filet mignon, loaded baked potato and sauteed cherry tomatoes.

Hopefully we’ll have more good news for you over the weekend.  Hey, I’m fifty so don’t look for any baby news!  We have a dog.  That’s it right now, ’til we move to the country and every feral and stray cat is at my door.  As long as they’re not inside, Jim should be OK with it.

Dad called tonight after dinner at a premier steakhouse.  I think my steakhouse did well tonight, for probably 1/10 the price.  But then my present will come along this weekend….

It hit me that I’d never get another birthday card or call from my mother.  I might have even rated a Viennese Torte for the big 5-0.  She is missed every day.  Dee

We miss you, no day more than today, election day.  I hope you are looking down upon the ridiculous CNN and it’s click ‘n play graphics that they’re so awed with, they stand in front of the map preventing viewers from even seeing it.

You always made it real.  Nothing was on NBC when I first checked results so I was stuck with CNN for a bit, but it was amateur hour.  Your friends at NBC were scheduled to toast you and your white boards after the election was called.

Hopefully you were sitting with my Mom over a beer (she’s recently joined your community) and perhaps discussing the Blizzard of ’77.  She never made Buffalo Wings but was a great cook.

Here’s to a new America.  I know you would have wanted to be here to see this.  People came out to vote in droves, democracy in action, instead of inaction.  Thank you, Tim.

It took me four hours to find my polling place.  A couple online checking my registration status and checking mapquest, google and yahoo.  A couple more driving around a neighborhood I do not know, looking for a nondescript building with no signage and no address.

So, a neighbor drove me over there this morning and he voted (cancelled me out, I’m certain).  It took me another hour in line because my name was A-L with a line out the door and his was M-Z, two people.

This was in the middle of Section 8 housing, or what we would call “the projects.”  I was gratified and surprised to see the number of local residents on line.  There were three other white people there, one an energy engineer that was my “line buddy,” and two neighbors.  Most people voted early.

I walked home, no problems.  Now this evening it appears that President-elect Obama and VP-elect Biden will be gaining their own public housing as of January 20, 2009.  A different class of housing but public nonetheless.

There will be much Monday morning quarterbacking on this election.  One might say right now that Bush’s extreme unpopularity as a result of the economy’s taking a dive and the war in Iraq turned the tables.

As someone who ran phone banks and lit drops for a month or so every couple of years, plus GOTV (get out the vote) efforts on election day, I believe that it was a good day for the USA.  Inspiring citizens to vote is a plus for our country, no matter whom they choose to elect.

It certainly was an historic day.  Earlier today I sent a note to the Obama campaign expressing sadness at his grandmother’s death yesterday.  I assured him that having just lost my mother, I’m sure she and many others held out their hands to welcome her to a good and safe place, and that there’s no doubt she is proud of him and his efforts.

It is my hope that peace and prosperity are the cornerstones of this new administration, and that Americans can move forward to make this a reality.  Respectfully, Dee

I’ve been looking for over 20 years for the perfect potato masher. I have one small snaky one from Jim’s grandmother, a large new snaky one, but what I’ve been looking for all these years is the old Revere Ware one with square holes.

Now that Mom is gone, it looks as if that particular piece of culinary folklore is coming my way. Do know I wouldn’t have gone to these lengths to get one! I have those two now, and finally succumbed to a ricer that provides excellent mashed potatoes as long as it’s only potatoes and they’re skinless.

Other Revere items have come into my possession over the years from Margie, husband Jim’s mother. Metal spatula with wooden handle: priceless. I use it often and never put it in the dishwasher. And the stainless gravy boat sits in our server, ready to be used. Mom has one also and I hope one of my siblings takes it on as it is stalwart in the kitchen and on the table.

I am so glad that my brother is taking the Revere Ware kitchen pots and pans. I would not recommend that anyone buy them new these days, but in the 1950′s they were made much better with heavier construction.

Given the choice, I’d much rather have my mother than her potato masher. But since I didn’t have that choice I know that every time I look at it or use it will remind me of her and all the wonderful meals that she made.

Yesterday I made Bolognese sauce with ground beef and sweet Italian sausage. It was too thick so I thinned it with some red wine left over from a dinner party. So we had spaghetti and sauce, with freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano last night.

Tonight I am making pot roast, Mom-style with noodles. Jim worked from home today, having some dental work done at lunchtime. I go in again in the morning for removal of a wisdom tooth. Don’t know that it gave me any, wisdom that is, only pain.

Tomorrow is easy lasagne with the rest of the meat sauce, the sauce to be tasted in advance and possibly doctored by me.

My assignment, should I choose to accept it (I must) is to write something profound about Mom that can be calligraphied onto a 4″/4″ piece of origami paper and folded into a crane. At least I get to send it by email and the calligraphers, my sisters, will transform the words into something that looks beautiful. Luckily I don’t have to do that part, because I’m a lefty that writes from above and the entire paper would be smeared.

Now I’ve got it! Society didn’t like lefties so they wouldn’t allow them to do calligraphy! Works for me! Hey, when I was a kid I got the rounded scissors because lefties are dangerous, and I always had to tell the teacher that I could only use scissors with my right hand (true). And no matter what Steven or Melissa said, I never ate paste in kindergarten. And you can forget about folding. I cook, OK?

Sisters have asked family and friends to write something about Mom, rather than having a reception. Her ashes will be placed this weekend and in another ceremony in her home country later on.

It smells good in here and I had the water boiling for the noodles and the meat is cooling, but Jim and Zoe went AWOL. I’ll just keep on going at my temporary site as Jim took over my desk and monitor all day today. Perhaps I can consider it a rental! Cheers, Dee

I was so messed up today. I went nowhere today and spent the day in pajamas with cold/flu/bug. Who knows. Last week about six hours from now I got the dreaded phone call that Mom was gone. Since then we’ve very much appreciated comments and notes and calls and letters with condolences.

Mom’s and my relationship was complicated and we never really talked about it. There’s a real emotional loss there, laced with some conflict. After an entire summer being awake at night with many other things in our lives that were difficult, I think I just got permission to sleep for a few days. Not all day or every day but with Jim’s new job and our living situation straightened out and Mom, most importantly, at peace if I’m really dragging I’ll make Jim breakfast and set out his clothes, kiss him goodbye and go to bed for another hour.

Jim may hate me for this but I love it. He’s a wonderful and great, big guy and I love him so much, but he accepted a tennis date Monday with a colleague at work. He was the physics guy, not the sports guy. I think the tennis racquet he had in high school is somewhere in a trailer on the ranch. So tomorrow morning we’re going to get him a new one, shorts, shoes, shirt, proper socks and a tennis bag. And some balls, tennis variety. He already has others to have taken this challenge.

Wish my love the best. Luckily he’ll have a solid Sunday night dinner (the pork roast, as we had spaghetti last night) and I’ll make him a great breakfast to get through the day.

Hope your weekend is going well. Cheers, Dee

They’re coming into town, less than a mile away, and certain winds make us hear them more. Jim’s Uncle Steve would love it.I received many comments today, mainly offering prayers and thoughts for our well-being after Mom’s death.

I had everything ready for dinner except the pot roast, that I froze and it wouldn’t unfreeze in time to eat. So we ordered pizza for dinner, as I’ve spent part of the day actually sleeping and the rest on the phone or reading/writing emails.

Excerpts from one who called my mother a “class act:” “Your Mother…shines out like a beacon of grace, beauty and intelligence in the memory of my early years at Chautauqua, and you can quote me on that.” That is from Dick Redington of Chautauqua days.

Also from Chautauqua, from Miriam Reading: “She was a lovely person in every way, and it is clear she has impacted the lives of many. I know she will be missed.”

Thanks to everyone who has called and written since Mom died yesterday. The priest called me this afternoon and we talked for 15 minutes or so. Pretty sure he’ll check out the blog! I told him that if a Catholic parish can get a website, an old lady like me can have a blog.

It is wonderful to know that so many people that may know Mom or me directly or peripherally care so much.

Take care and thanks for being there. Hopefully our pizza will be here soon, because we’re hungry! Dee